


Hope Spot

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Bad wrong, Blood and Violence, Dissociative Fantasies, Extreme bullying, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Emeto, M/M, No Sex, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kink, Physical Abuse, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Sexual Tension, Sexual thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Violence, Torture, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, Urination, Verbal Abuse, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Kokichi gets bullied at school on barely tolerable ways. He goes home to a perpetually drunk single mother. Loud noises make him flinch. More recently, Kokichi has made a friend. A friend like Saihara, who is weird and uncomfortable but seemingly genuine, just makes everything worse though.Fortunately for them both, they can find a way fix everything. Unfortunately for them both, the way to fix everything means going through more pain. It'll be worth it though.Right?





	Hope Spot

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses but life has been a bitch lately so you know? Had to go without being able to wrote much for almost a week. After watching eight episodes of Magical Girl Site after a break up that hit me right in the really horrible experiences. 
> 
> Worlds weirdest fic. Possibly vent even though it didn't start that way? 
> 
> I'm not even sure if I consider this to even slightly be porn. It's not quite a vent fic either. There was zero real sexual intent with this until I finally forced myself to write the one part. I seriously had to write the ending before I could write the actual kinky. I'm definitely not made for writing actual non con. But uh yeah I'm posting it anyway because fuck it. 
> 
> If you think those tags are bad pls don't read. But it's up to you and I give so much warning to basically anything that we'll. It's your choice. I'm assuming that you are a consenting adult. Capable of making informed choices. If you want more information go to the end notes.

Kokichi clenches his teeth and keeps his gaze to the dirty shed floor. This is the exact reason why he wants to avoid gym on days like this. Why he usually needs to avoid Saihara during school. Actually, there are a lot of reasons and getting dragged into the secluded gym shed is one of them. 

Not that the teachers would see it that way. 

Right now, it's the fifth time this month that Kokichi and Saihara have been forced into a shed full of dusty gym supplies and sneers. It needs to end, soon, but no one else is willing to say shit. 

The sound of Saihara puking up clear stomach acid echoes in Kokichi's still ringing eardrums. As does the noise of shoes colliding with Saihara's body. It's not at all too different from when Kokichi gets kicked or punched, except for how much louder and harsher it is despite the gym uniform that the boy swims in. They don't hurt Kokichi like they hurt Saihara.

At least neither of them have eaten today. 

It makes him wonder though. Really, these... These fuckers tend to be the opposite between them. Kokichi will get pushed or tugged at, sure, but the bulk remains little shit like money. Favors like cheating. Swirlies and being mockingly shoved into lockers. Saihara makes it worse when he's around. Kokichi's pinches turn into large bruises just by being in Saihara's presence.

Never for long though. 

Saihara, the big sweaty Dangan Ronpa obsessed lump of flesh, is Kokichi's only friend. Talking with him can be uncomfortable and trying to juggle his lack of social skills is tiring, but- but bit by bit, Kokichi is coming to understand that Saihara is really something other than just a freak.

Just freaks wouldn't pale at the sight of Kokichi getting punched in the face and then smile like a wax figure about to be melted. That view of Saihara, the idea of him as just a stupid death loving idiot, wouldn't be accurate to the young man that uses anything possible to get beaten up instead. 

Cracked open white grin faced asshole fucks, boys more like men in body only- the people kicking Saihara into the floor know that. These upperclassmen know full well that Saihara would do anything to keep his only friend safe. 

What the upperclassmen, their ‘senpai’, want? The rest follow. 

Might be the reason why they only beat up Kokichi when Saihara is around to see it. Not that it matters. Kokichi can't see anything right now himself. He isn't looking, his brain is just making up visions of Shuichi's tears and bruised face, it's not real. It's not real if Kokichi can only hear it.

Hands rest on Kokichi's plain black hair and yank. The feeling of a steady stinging pain radiates all around Kokichi's skull, and he can almost hear hair ripping out despite how limp he is.

A sweaty hand grabs his face and shakes him. Kokichi knows exactly what they want from him. He knows it in how Saihara whimpers and then whines with a pained grunt. Seeing this is off limits though, it's not allowed, and Kokichi refuses to give in just this once. Eyes belonging to Kokichi are outlawed from seeing Saihara accept all of the bruises and fractured bones meant for him. The message is hard-coded in the knowing that punches, kicks, and merciless hands are beating Kokichi's only friend. 

It's illegal, he wants to scream. I wish you would all just die, he thinks.

Saying that is an assured death sentence though.

Kokichi stays quiet and tries to pretend that the fingers digging into his jaw aren't there. They are there though, same with the water logged words being whispered into his ear. More fingers clog up the nerves of Kokichi's skin. Grip into him and start pulling his eyelids apart with the full roughness of teenage boy-men that are high on mutual social-psychopathic enabling. Or maybe one of them is an actual person who has that kind of bullshit. Neither sociopaths or psychopaths are quite as charming as movies have you believe. Turns out that a lot are outright stupid instead of intelligent. 

Stupid like still trying to blink and look away until a box cutter comes into view.

Saihara's face is obscured by hair and how he's getting his head ground into the dirty covered floor. It's good. Kokichi doesn't have to look right at his swollenly red-purple, tear stained, blood dripping face. It's bad though, because he gets to see the other boy twitch against his restraints. Kokichi forgot about that.

He subtly flexes his arms and comes up with the conclusion that they're both fucked. God damn jump ropes. They're tied up with jump ropes. What if they get left here like this? 

Can't move. Can't look, away. Can't hear, but that's a lie. Can't feel but Kokichi is feeling the echoes of punches and kicks vibrating from Saihara. Can't not hear or see how Saihara is groaning and sobbing from pain. Always like this. Always with Saihara provoking and begging and limping away like a sad dog.

Smiling at Kokichi. 

This is the price that comes with Kokichi having anyone that actually cares. This is the result of Saihara not knowing a single bit of what reality is like. Kokichi watching with unfocused eyes, and he hisses when a generic voice gets into his ear drums.

"Are you having fun yet?" someone in a corner asks.

Kokichi doesn't bother remembering the names of shit scum. He doesn't even answer at first either. Not much of a point in validating their trash talking, but not talking doesn't help. Weathering it doesn't make the bullying stop. Not when Kokichi is alone and not when he's with Saihara.

It's like they want to monopolize him.

It's like they get angry when Saihara invades on their territory, ever since Saihara's motives became obviously different from more bullying. Yeah, the chronic face hider is just that damn awful at people. Kokichi still suspects that the other boy will eventually to go full killer DR Otaku, and gut him alive. Not that Saihara is the first someone to tell Kokichi about what a good Dangan Ronpa victim he'd be. He's just the first to actually mean in it a purely good way. Somehow. 

The hands fisting in Kokichi's hair rip him back further and then throw his head forward, hard enough to make him sick and dizzy. But his head falls like a heavy weight from sudden freedom. The bite of nails into stubbornly soft cheeks is salt on the wound. Marking up Kokichi's face with obviously human made wounds is rare…

Saihara coughs up more bile, and phlegm, but their bullies just laugh and stomp him into it face first.

Disgusting. Kokichi would prefer a million more spit balls and ruined lunches with caterpillars crawling around. The occasional swirlies are better than watching this. Which he still is, because Kokichi knows that looking away would just make every worse.

Honestly, the emotional and physical stuff just blends together. Just another zombie slog through the motions of school, and then shambling back to an empty house. It's easy to let the brain dissociate into a haze of faint memories. 

Except now, now there is one Saihara Shuichi who takes Kokichi's all of beatings. Because he's an affection starved wreck. 

Pain glazed eyes snap over to Kokichi at the sound of a box cutter clinking open. They're dull eyes that only brighten up into gold when Danganronpa is on. Kokichi gets to see it quite a bit lately. It's not a bad thing to look at, when the alternative is to actually watch the suffering fest that everyone likes.

Maybe Saihara does this because he really is a messed up fuck that gets off on fucked up shit. Like everyone says. Kokichi could easily just cut him out. Probably d-

Cold metal taps Kokichi's collar bones.

One of the older boys, crouching next to Kokichi and his racing pulse, laughs loudly enough to slam past the protect layers of apathetic ocean.

"God, he's such a screaming ball of grease! But I think one of our buddies asked you a question," and the nameless bastard leans in closer because of course. "Aren't you going to answer?"

Mob characters are so generic, Saihara would say. Saihara who just rants about anything that comes to mind and cries grotesquely at each trial post mortem, after they brood and end up figuring it all out before anyone else. He's right about it though. Saihara is right when he goes on about how fucking boring it all is. Not that Kokichi didn't start it.

Kokichi looks up blankly and forces out, "Sorry... but I didn't pay attention to how you've been cheating on Miss Hand with your mistress, cum rag."

Someone chokes on a cigarette.

Then, like a damn breaking, most of the room bursts into genuinely shocked laughter. A few guys even start whooping out loud and joke about how their friend... 

Kokichi stops caring. He's too busy seeing all the signs of rage. Self righteous cunt faced pieces of shit. He glances over at the few loners in the corner. The taller one looks away and goes back to pretending that things aren't happening. Just puffs away at a cancer stick, like he doesn't have a single avenue out of this, like his consciousness isn't killing him. 

A hypocrite.

Kokichi hates him and his specific hangers-on the most.

Saihara gets another kick to the abdomen and Kokichi flinches at his wheezing. But they're chuckle filled wheezes, with a nice wide smile full of puke. Cute and sending shivers of loathing down Kokichi's spine. Times like this make Kokichi as spiteful towards Saihara as he is grateful. Moments where Kokichi has to remind himself that none of the fucks here would care if either of their victims offed themselves. It's not going to last though. 

A large hand grabs at Kokichi's gym shirt and pulls it up, taking its owner with it. Then, the box cutter starts sawing away at the thin cotton. Kokichi grimaces and tries to ignore the anger and humiliation making his face burn. Nose scrunched up and face cringing away.

Noises of confusion and panic pour out of Saihara. Probably from realizing that their captors are paying attention to Kokichi again.

"M' shtill h-here! I'm good, I'm f-fine, really it'sh not over yet? Pleashe..." the boy murmurs. His words are messed up and slurred. Pathetic.

The way Kokichi clenches his eyes shut and tenses at the sound of cloth finally snapping is worse. They've never done this to Kokichi's clothing before. Barely hidden pins or food, graffiti, and absolutely soaking his things in soda or water-

His cut open shirt makes him shiver, and Kokichi's back itches with the feeling of something being wrong. Not just wrong. A different kind of wrong that his eyes find reflexed in Saihara's frozen body. Saihara is never still to begin with, and his mouth is never open yet soundless. They stare at each other with a kind of dread that comes with not knowing. Kokichi's nose scrunches up as he starts to take in the lingering faces of his torturers.

Looking at their faces is new. Kokichi hates it and singles in on the ringleader, tapping away at his phone. The main idiot. He's mildly handsome in the way that average people with rich parents get to be. Maybe he's jealous that Saihara is both attractive and rich underneath his hat.

A foot puts itself over Saihara's hand when the boy tries reaching over, and Saihara looks far more afraid than Kokichi has ever seen him.

Kokichi doesn't register why yet.

Big Boss Bitch uncrosses his legs and sighs, putting away his phone. He stares down at Kokichi like Saihara isn't there. When the asshole walks over, it's as if he has better things to do and isn't remotely involved. Like he isn't taking out his probable daddy issues on weaklings.

"I always wonder about how Saihara's parents can stand him," Ultimate Bitch starts. "Draining their money to buy body pillows and probably some Kirigiri themed fleshlights to shove knives into."

Saihara makes a gross gurgling noise before spitting out what might be some blood, "I have three-e jobsh tho... My phavorite ish the one w-where people puhay me for theoriesh. But it'sh not az sh-table."

Kokichi purses his lips and tries to not point out that they both work that job together. He's pretty sure that Saihara is trying to draw back all the aggressive behavior again. All of their abuse that just barely makes logical sense.

"Kirigiri is besht girl thooo! Mm… happy y-you agree becaush otherw- hrkup!" and the pined boy gets shut up by a tie being shoved into his wet mouth.

Fuck, Saihara is bound and gagged now. The strange atmosphere grows heavier and almost cloying at Kokichi's skin. He shivers and notes a few uncomfortable shifts of leg, an air of discomfort and confusion spreading throughout the bullies as well. Darting eyes stare at each twitch of lip and whispers from neighbor to neighbor. Everyone else is noticing the uncomfortable tension. No one really seems to like it. 

Still, Kokichi doesn't understand yet.

Head honcho grabs an unlit cigarette and a lighter, settling the thing aflame and smoking. This isn't unfamiliar at all. Blowing smoke into Kokichi's face is a more normal and daily activity. Except that the cigarette just hovers around Kokichi's personal space once the person holding it reaches him. 

Saihara writhes with wide eyes and tries to worm his way over, useless. Kokichi sees something like an epiphany in those mud-sunshine eyes. 

It's at this point that the disturbed feeling in Kokichi's chest and stomach evolve into nausea. He eyes the cigarette with the crystal clear fear that always makes these people smile. Smoke curls out from slowly burning paper like slow motion paint in water. At this point, the bullies should ask for a favor. Extort money. Threaten to blackmail him or something. Help me cheat, smuggle this, just something a bit worse than usual.

Burning orange, in the dim light of a neglected storage shed, a cigarette gets close enough to provide the illusion of warmth to a frightened boy. 

"Lately, watching an innocent scholarship student like you get filthy because of this guy is just unbearable. He's the worst kind of worthless," the possibly older guy says knowingly. He stares down at Kokichi as though telling a secret. All jovial smiles and narrow eyes. The kind of expression that Kokichi hates the most. Like this shit cunt is even 1% worth the air he breathes, compared to Saihara. 

Those eyes linger on Kokichi's face and travel down to his exposed upper body. Too long.

Kokichi starts to get it.

The temperature drops and half of everyone in the shed just stops. It's like a switch getting flicked right on but off, and the two main guys keeping Saihara down accidentally let him go for a few seconds of muffled yelling and crawling. Kokichi-

Laughs.

"Holy fucking shit," the boy and his tiny convulsing body choke out. Lips quirk up into disbelief and bemusement. 

"Don't fucking tell me that, all of you just, wanted to fuck me this whole time? Are you actually honestly... jealous? Jealous and projecting onto Saihara Shuichi of all people!"

That's so cliche. That's so stupid. That can't be real, Kokichi cackles into the gym storage shed. It's not even the twenty first century and here he is, getting his shit beaten in emotionally and semi bodily because some dicks can't handle liking dicks. If Saihara could talk instead of yell into a makeshift gag, he might mention that this is more fucked up than season 12 and it's harem motive. 

Kokichi's words cause the room to grow shocked and silent. But he isn't done, "Is daddy too old school to let you keep your Bara porn on the home computer? Oh wait, I guess I'd be Shota instead. Maybe that's why you're all so fucking angshtpmh-"

A fist decks Kokichi's mouth and makes his head whip around. Worth it. Hit a sore bone. 

God, Kokichi is actually right. All the fucked up bullshit that stands out, the conditional beatings, the hindsight things like constantly mentioning-

Kokichi looks down at his cut open shirt and very carefully doesn't become aware of his ropes.

That isn't… 

Kokichi's face settles in that blank expression earned after years of listening to his drunk mother rant after work. The one where he switches off his feelings and hears about how much of an STD ridden, cheating, useless sissy his long dead father was. He almost smiles and nods on reflex. 

No, they wouldn't. The room is too quiet. 

Kokichi tries to ignore the burning in his eyes and the weight of old jump ropes binding him into vulnerability. 

They might. Eyes glance around. 

Oh God, they fucking might. Shit. Shit no, no no no no! 

The bullying that borders on beating with the occasional bruises, with anything else reserved for Kokichi to watch, suddenly is something that Kokichi knows he could probably get through. That's acceptable. It's not like either of them just sit and accept it. Full honesty and transparency, Saihara and Kokichi aren't just planning on sitting on their asses until one of them commits suicide. That's exactly why the two of them did. Oh. 

Panic crashes around inside of Kokichi's head and meets that one nice fact. Kokichi remembers now, utterly, exactly what he has forgotten in the heat of the moment. 

Recording equipment is literally infesting the shed.

Each shift and fidget of each person is being perfectly recorded and live streamed to that girl's laptop. 

Slowing down and picking up all at once, Kokichi's pounding heart reminds itself to stay steady. That's right. Everything got to him and Kokichi let himself get confused. This fucking wad staring down at Kokichi's exposed body with a brittle snake smile, he's not in charge. Just like Saihara said after splurging on electronics and bribing that Iruma chick. Saihara with his distant but caring super-lawyer parents. Saihara who melts whenever Kokichi smiles at all.

If… if that happens then Kokichi will be fine. He'll be fine because Saihara. There's no way that Saihara will abandon Kokichi either. Saihara is-

‘Ouma-kun shouldn't be scared, we'll be the ones really in control!’, are the remembered words racing through Kokichi's head. 

It's not a lie. 

Images of Saihara leaving Kokichi alone are. 

Kokichi closes his likely fear dilated eyes and breathes in cigarette smoke. He forces himself to remember the next few things that Saihara told him. Possibly nothing but lies or mistakes and bullshit. Still, Kokichi wants to believe the other boy. He needs the sheer magnitude of the concepts that Saihara puts forth, innocent enthusiasm aimed only at Kokichi, to continue pushing him forward. To give his small body the strength to do more than tremble. 

Fucking Christ, Saihara feels safer to Kokichi than Kokichi's own mother. 

Glaring up at his main tormenter, Kokichi tries to gather himself. What will cement these bastards into the hall of irrefutably unrepentant and dangerous liabilities? There fucking has to be something utterly repugnant that Kokichi can get them caught doing here. Something other than touching him that way. 

So far there's the smoking/drinking with occasional drug pedaling, the constant assaults, the thefts. Sexual harassment caught on tape and more nastiness lifted from texts. None of them are actually protected either. Or, they certainly won't be. Saihara and Kokichi have too much dirt on them. Too many hard earned facts to properly list. Iruma is a damn genius, and Kokichi acknowledges it gladly. It's a good thing that he reminds the girl of her own younger sibling. Who died recently. 

It's also good that Kokichi has no reservations on using that tidbit against her.

“This is where you tell me what you want,” he says. It's a hoarse and emotionally desolate voice that comes out of Kokichi's throat. Perfect because not a single thing about it is a lie. “And then force me to bargain, and you have someone slap me around, and then I end up giving in so that Saihara stops getting lynched for being nice to me.”

The way he says it makes one of the mob characters flinch. Kokichi doesn't understand why. He's just repeating the truth that he's always spoken before. 

In the background, “Dude… I don't think we should-”

Big Bad Twat swears angrily, too caught up to notice the seeds of dissent, “Remind me of what happens when you talk back to me? Huh, Ouma-chan?”

“I honestly can't remember your name. I have never remembered any of your names,” he says. Not evenly and not calmly. 

That lit cigarette tip zooms in to be right near a pale throat. Kokichi jolts back immediately, fearful noises and all. A bit further than he should be able to. 

“Boss… this is a bit much for me. I think we should call it a day,” someone mutters. 

Not one of the eternal fence sitters in the corner though. So no one important. A quick look reveals the same smoke veil and hazy figures. There might be a change in general expression or demeanor, but nothing worth it. ‘Boss’ doesn't seem to quite hear. 

“Are you serious?” the abuser says after taking a drag of cancer. His lips twist into something enraged. Eyes though, his eyes portray something a little different even in dim light. “Ouma-chan should stop trying to have fun at the expense of others.”

Hypocritical as fuck, Kokichi thinks to himself. How many times has it been now, having that urge to shove pencils and God knows what else into their eye sockets and brains? Those habitual fantasies of finally killing each damn one of them during classes. Attacking them with metal baseball bats or tire irons. Kokichi is weak though. Weak and a soft coward, with a small body, that would never actually do that. 

“Shut up and wait it out! You want Asano and his people as enemies?” someone behind Kokichi hisses. 

The bully in front of Kokichi twitches and grabs at his black hair. Thankfully not with the cigarette hand. Kokichi hates pain and burns are the worst. Catching on fire would possibly kill Kokichi anyway. 

“My name is,” the older boy mutters in a faux soft tone. Kokichi himself is slowly pulled over until hot breath hits his left ear. “ASA-”

“NO!“

Oh God, it feels like Kokichi's eardrum is bursting. 

“K-E-I-”

The lit cigarette drops to the ground as a second hand grips Kokichi's wiggling shoulder, of course, and the warmth on his bare skin makes Kokichi's guts rebel. 

“ICHI!”

Kokichi distantly hears something that sounds like panicked whispers. If everyone here actually wants him, maybe someone other than Saihara will save him for once. Maybe one of them actually thinks they're in love with Kokichi. Maybe some of them likes Saihara instead. Maybe this will be a wake up call. 

One of the crowd bursts out laughing after Kokichi drops to the floor, the boy letting himself whimper as he curls into a ball. Soon, others follow suit with mocking laughter and words. But just as many people are clearly faking amusement, and a third group isn't laughing at all. The third group is talking. 

“I've seen how some people were looking at him, but this?”

Saihara is actually crying, and their eyes meet for a while. Kokichi wonders if his face looks just as terrified. Albeit for more selfish reasons. 

“Fucking knew this shit would happen.”

The floor is cold and covered in dirt. Kokichi shivers. It smells weird. 

“Look, if he goes farther than that, I leave. I did not sign up to be a fucking rapist. I just wanted to blow off steam!”

Pathetic. 

“Last month, my sister was… you bastards all know and I-”

Kokichi convulses in what is both sobs and giggles. This is where they draw the line. For a slowly coalescing group, this what at least some of Kokichi's daily tormentors refuse to do. Bullshit. Where is this earnest unease and guilt coming from? How is all the other violence totally fine while this isn't? Kokichi is not nearly stupid enough to believe on the lie of a good bully. He's an all expenses paid scholarship student, and that requires him to be at least somewhat intelligent. 

“Say it,” Assnope demands. 

Poor people don't get multiple schools begging for them to freely attend without being worth it. 

“Asano-san.”

Disappointed groaning ensues from the abuser, the fuck probably high on power tripping, and a hand gently pats Kokichi's back, “Say it properly, Ou-ma-chan. I'm sure that you can do it!”

Like Kokichi is an unruly dog getting into the trash. Yeah, he just needs to be trained well. He not being Kokichi at all. Asano is going to get his ass handed to him, along with anyone else in this room. Purple eyes squeeze shut and break contact with blindly crying gold. 

Kokichi mutters something and looks at at No Ass with the most pathetic ‘please only semi hurt me muhwister sadist’ gaze he can. Drama club and classes remain a great investment. 

The sight of utter desperation must have some kind of effect. Not just on Asano either. 

“Someone shut that fucking retard up!” the upperclassman snaps as he stands. 

It's not even necessary for the one guy to mess with Saihara. Bruised face leaking blood and sweat, Saihara goes as silent as possible the same moment that that sentence hits the air. A hum and a smug little grin seems to spread out from the man child known as Asano. Gross. 

Kokichi gulps and shamefully licks his dry lips, “Asano-senpai…”

His brain and head feel weird. Something in a corner smells like pot. The cut up shirt is falling off. Asano is looking at him like a prize was won. 

“Good boy, Ouma-chan.”

Breathing softly and swimming in and out of reality, Kokichi feels tired. It's like a blanket of not being able to care is swaddling him. Yet, he's still scared. He has no idea what will happen to him in the next minutes. If he'll be able to look Saihara Shuichi in the face ever again. Maybe this is what Dangan Ronpa likes to call despair. 

Another upperclassman walks over to Asano. They share a small and private conversation that lasts about a minute. Kokichi does not give a shit about how long it takes. By the end, Asano is smirking even more. More cruelly. 

"Ouma-chan wanted to know how to get out of his mess, right?" Asano smirks. "Since you've been good... I figure that I'll let you try and make that deal you mentioned. Just to be nice and fair to everyone's favorite kohai."

Purple eyes slowly zone out, ”What.”

Not even a question and Asano still has the arrogance to act disappointed. At least it's obvious what Kokichi means. There's no questioning the basic concepts of his single worded reply. What do you mean. What do you want. What must I do. What is wrong with you. What. Simple, blunt, undeniable; but what Kokichi most means is a bit different. Those whats aren't real questions. 

What will you do when I ruin your life forever? What will your move be when I make sure that everyone knows exactly how disgusting you are for the rest of your life? Sure, it's unlikely that the general public will ever know… but Asano and his ugly leers are still going to be exposed to everyone who matters. 

Each of the last five gym shed visits worth. All the texts on infected phones. On their clouds and infected computers. 

“I want to make sure that Saihara understands something. But snuff loving Otaku trash like him can have difficulty learning,” Asano starts to rant, teeth showing as his face contorts into a grin. “Evidenced by the way he still doesn't get the message after months of clear communication. Anyway, I'm so very sure that there's some way to convey what he needs to do.”

There's more of what Asano continues to say, cigarette ashes drifting to the floor, but Kokichi's brain melts it down. Upperclassmen like this fuck aren't deserving of respect at all. Having to call him senpai is a waste of lifespan. Letting him gibber jabber on is a headache though, even if Kokichi has to listen and stay calm. 

“So we'll play a little game instead. Do something that lets that chat know not to go near you,” Asano says. 

Kokichi jumps at the faint chance he sees and murmurs, “Like an animal?”

An angry thing peeks out of Asano and his generic everyday gaze. The older boy still nods with a hint of childish glee. Kokichi wonders if the upperclassmen feels like there's nothing in live that can really be called his own. Hopes so. There are only two people in this room that deserve anything good, and they're both on the floor being victims. 

“What, do you expect us to piss on you or something?” the boy who once held the box cutter asks. His voice contains incredulity and an undertone of something afraid. 

Maybe regret. Good. 

Asano blinks and scoffs in amusement. Then, as a round of murmurs and chuckles fills the room, he hums in thought. The atmosphere instantly plummets like a bomb. The dick shit and his hum are familiar to everyone that's actually been here before. It's the noise that the upperclassman makes when he's considering something, and right now Asano is in another world. 

The boy that cut up Kokichi's shirt gasps and inhales quietly. Kokichi hears the box cutter fall to the floor. Asano still doesn't notice how his lackies are reacting to everything. He must not remember what reality is right now. 

Once again, Kokichi wonders why this is any different from anything else. But he can't lie and say that this new possibility isn't better. 

“How about that, huh?”

“You'd just do it anyway, “ Kokichi points out. “Really, you've all been pissing on me for months.”

Laughter and implied acknowledgement is all that Kokichi gets. It's also the only kind of reply that Kokichi and others need. There are maybe fifteen to twenty people in this shed. Just seconds after Asano all but fully declares his intentions, three boys near the entrance leave. A moment passes and a guy on his phone grabs his half eaten lunch, mutters something, and jumps ship. Half a dozen excuses, and bodies file out of Asano’s circle of influence. The abuser doesn't seem to care until there are only around eight people left. 

The hypocritical loner gets up and grinds his cigarette butt into the floor. He and two others make their way past a quiet Asano, but loner clasps a tan hand onto the other's shoulder. 

“You're a sick piece of shit, but I'm not gonna rat on you. If you actually fucking touch him though? I'll kill you,” he says. 

Charming. 

With that, only five and Asano remain. Six if Kokichi counts the stoic man left behind to keep watch. He is. So. Grateful. That's a lie though. If all those people wanted to, they could force Asano to back off, they could save Saihara and Kokichi. Nothing even remotely similar to that has actually occurred though. 

“I'll… I'll stand watch outside, Asano-senpai,” the knife guy says. 

Asano rolls his eyes, “Pussies.”

Like that, the remaining teens take their places. One going outside but not leaving. One giving Saihara a light final kick, more like a shove, before walking over to stand around Kokichi's curled up body. Five total people are going to… to urinate on Kokichi. The boy shudders profusely and tries to block out the sound of Saihara grunting in rage. A single look back into gold eyes heads off anything stupid though. Its not a long stare, but Kokichi watches Saihara's taunt body fall limp again. Tiny noises of heavy breathing clash with snickers and insults made by trash mobs. 

Puppy dog eyes glaze over with a look of defeat, and Kokichi can't even remind Saihara of their plan. 

Things should be okay, Kokichi wants to say. I can handle it, he tries to believe. 

Clicks and leather brushing against cloth fill the room. Kokichi jolts despite having the exact expectations of hearing pants be undone. Each zipper and button makes his brain go into a tizzy, imagination whirling, and Kokichi does his best to tuck his head away from- from being hit. 

“Damn, and here I thought you'd have a micro dick or something!” someone says, whistling. 

“Stop looking at my cock…” 

Jesus Christ, Mary and Joseph, Kokichi inwardly screams. Just get on with it so that I can get away from you. But he can't say that. Kokichi can't even look at Saihara or the damn floor. He's stuck with his eyes closed and his mind trying to imagine something happy. There has to be something that will help Kokichi block out the world. Something about something that will let Kokichi escape from reality. 

Like the time his mother bought him a large stuffed sloth. Then Kokichi remembers how she ended up throwing it away in front of him. Fuck. 

This must all be Kokichi's fault. All of this is happening because of Kokichi. Giving into his wants and letting Saihara be his friend, greedy he's so fucking ungrateful-

Cloth and metal stop rustling. 

Someone above Kokichi sighs. 

Hot, temperature hot, something warm and fluid pours onto Kokichi's left leg with a hiss. Kokichi stifles a gasp or sob. His body prices harder to control once someone else starts pissing too. Another, two streams of strong smelling urine hitting Kokichi's back. From that point Kokichi can't move or do anything at all. Disgust crawls along his skin and mingles with the flow of piss dripping down him. Soaking into his gym clothing and running to the floor in fat droplets. Streams or rivers. 

One by one, until Kokichi's tense body jerks at the feeling of someone aiming their urine right on his head. Asano snickers loud enough to register past emptying bladders. Someone doesn't drink enough water, because the smell is downright pungent. The humiliation is too much for Kokichi to handle. But he has to be strong. He has to ignore it for Saihara. The piss running down his face is-

Kokichi tries to make sure that his mouth and eyes are closed, but warm fluids still find their way near. The boy shudders and begins to cry in earnest. 

His brain lashes out with a dozen different messages on what to do, how to feel, and Kokichi can't think. You deserve this. You should apologize to Saihara. You basically asked for this, and shouldn't you be thankful that they only have their dicks out to piss on you? Cocks out for Ouma Kokichi! He'll let you do anything other than touch him with one because he's bait. 

“For such a golden scholarship student, you sure made for a great toilet!” someone coos, one stream of piss coming to an end.

It almost sounds like something that Saihara would say. 

No, no, Saihara wouldn't say that. Kokichi breathes rapid through his nose and tries to disappear on instinct. Saihara would be more quiet. Saihara wouldn't force Kokichi into anything, and- and would smile down at Kokichi with that look of nervous excitement. The boy would carefully put his hat somewhere else and take minutes just to remove his belt. When he starts pissing, Shuichi would get all gentle eyed and genuinely complement Kokichi. 

Yeah… Shuichi would say something more like-

Shuichi would look at him with a heavy blush and parted lips while using Kokichi as a-

Kokichi's body seizes when he feels a surge of arousal in his lower abdomen. He almost opens his eyes in shock, but fear over powers self-loathing. Fear, the need to dissociate, over powers the outrage and Kokichi continues to fantasize about something else. 

If it were Shuichi then Kokichi would like getting pissed on. That's what he tells himself. As the feeling dies down and people run out of fuel, Kokichi latches onto the idea. This would be great if it were Shuichi with his cock aimed at Kokichi's face. That's the truth, his brain says wisely. A knot of tightness forms even if Kokichi isn't getting hard. Yeah, splashes of warmth like this. Shuichi. Just think of Shuichi, just make it Shuichi, Shuichi will never ever do anything to hurt me!

Shuichi would make it good. He'd turn the spray of sickening warmth into something that Kokichi would want, just like Dangan Ronpa marathons where they end up cuddling, and Kokichi would get hard and needy without guilt. 

Muffled squeaks and tears escape Kokichi's piss soaked body. 

‘You're being so good Kokichi. Just a little bit more, and then you get to fuck me just the way you've always wanted,’ fantasy Shuichi whispers. 

‘ever since you laid eyes on him you dirty son of a fucking faggot and an alcoholic debt ridden whore how dare you be so selfish when you can't ever deserve love anyway,’ Kokichi's mother snarls. 

Kokichi heaves and gags. 

Above him, five highschoolers must be staring. The claiming has already stopped for a good minute. 

“I…” Asano starts. 

There's movement, maybe. Kokichi isn't sure. His head is swimming. He didn't have anything to drink today. He didn't have anything to eat today or yesterday. He's not hungry or thirsty. He's not sure what anything is, but there might be people leaving the shed now. His ears tell him that something made of fibers just got cut. A stray thought tells him that the fence on the school roof has a weak point. Kokichi should apologize for being born by jumping off. 

The sliding door of the gym shed is opened all the way. 

It shuts. 

“Sh-Saihara?” Kokichi whispers hoarsly, teary eyes still shut and body shuddering from having cooling piss all over him. “Saihara, Saihara, S-shuichi-”

Cut gym ropes fall to the floor with barely noticeable thuds. Hands and gym shoes scrape against the floor, Saihara ripping the tie out of his mouth, and then Kokichi hears his friend scramble over to him. Saihara is going to help him and free him. Saihara is going to touch Kokichi while he's covered in the fresh smelly piss of multiple people. After a part of Kokichi liked it. 

Kokichi tries to demand that Shuichi not touch him, but only air comes out of his mouth. 

Trembling hands release Kokichi's arms from imprisonment, and Saihara immediately starts to check the limbs, carefully helping blood return by rubbing. Not once does Saihara seem to be disgusted by the fact that Kokichi has been used like a cheap urinal. 

Kokichi croaks, “Don't…”

Don't touch me. Don't get dirty like me. Don't hurt me too. 

“I'm going to clean you up. Ghet you to your place,” Saihara says. Calm and soft. Less slurred than he pretended earlier. 

“No! Please no, I can't go there!” Kokichi shouts and twitches. He bolts up and stares Saihara in the eyes, hands gripping onto the boy's shirt. “I'll die if she sees me, if she knows she'll get finally rid of me or kill me like she says, God please just don't make me go back there!”

They stay like that for a few moments. Chilled fluids dripping down Kokichi's hair and skin, clothing soaked with foul smells. Saihara anguished and lacking that hard earned air of ignorant happiness. The only thing filling the room with sound is Kokichi's panicked weeping. Saihara inches closer on his knees, arms embracing the tiny and pathetic body that Kokichi calls his, and they both know that he must be in the growing puddle too. 

“It'sh not fair. It's not fair that they all do thish to you, I hate them!” Saihara sniffles. 

Kokichi can barely move his heavy arms, but his attempt to latch onto Saihara almost works. His limbs allow him to take hold of Saihara's gym shirt. The grip is weak, arms feeling tiny brushes of pinpricks aches, but it's enough. 

Too much enough. 

Too much-

Not even a minute and Kokichi's brain is forcing him to remember what he did. How he used the concept of Saihara. Just gave into the allure of escape and weakness by imagining Saihara, using his name like a crutch, used everything about ‘Shuichi’ to make it better. Kokichi squeezes his eyes shut and tries to forget those momentary whispers of arousal. 

“Bag, we have the bag… I'll get it and we can try to clean up. There'sh the emergenshy clothing after all!” Saihara attempts to say cheerfully. His expression is half limp. Saihara's normally breathy and enthusiastic voice is cracked, grown dark. Those empty but startlingly gold eyes are bloodshot. Bloodshot and burning with something that isn't aimed at Kokichi at all, but it scares him anyway.

He's never seen Saihara wear an expression belonging to a Blackened before. Kokichi, privately, has always thought that Saihara and his obsession contained nothing but innocence and warped purity. 

“And the wound shpray. They poured mud on my head before, sho there might be other shtuff, or a bucket-”

Now, it's audible in both voice and body language. That there is indeed the capacity for truly malicious intent inside of Kokichi's only friend. More than just the simple capacity too, Saihara could take action. 

Ugly sobbing bubbles up out of Kokichi's mouth. It's usually him quietly taking care of Saihara's wounds, telling the other boy to shut up while their hands both share the experience of trembling. It's usually not Saihara that goes to get medical supplies in addition to providing reassurances. It's usually not once ever before that Kokichi has been violated. The boy knows that he's lucky. He knows that, Kokichi knows it with the force of this new hug and murmured apologies, but rationality has died in favor of something else. 

“We'll go to my home. My parentsh are gone. Ouma-kun,” and Saihara, Shuichi Shuichi Shuichi, swallows thickly. “You can shtay with me forever. They're lawyersh and your mother is… we'll take you in. I'll even get the family register changed too.”

Kokichi shudders. That's-

“That sounds like dying,” he says. 

Of course, the sheer wonder and confusion mixes in with Kokichi's panic. His breathing remains irregular even as Saihara's warmth sinks in. The fact that his words still sound faintly pleased can't be erased though. Getting to live with Saihara, with Shuichi, getting to wake up and eat the other boy’s utilitarian but tasty cooking in the morning? Going to school together and doing homework together. It sounds like heaven, Kokichi thinks to himself. 

Saihara holds Kokichi's slowly relaxing body even tighter, “Then I'll kill you. I'll kill Ouma-kun… to demon away Kokichi in the middle of the night. No one will ever know.”

“Like an unsolvable murder?”

“Yeah.”

Kokichi melts into warmth with half closed eyes, into Shuichi's body as if to merge with the other boy entirely. 

“Please kill me then. Please make me become someone else.”

There's the feeling of busted lips brushing across Kokichi's own, feather light and hesitant. For one second it seems like breathing is impossible. For another second Kokichi wants to both run away and dig his fingers into Shuichi's skin, to beg for the boy to do what he wants with him, to plead for Shuichi to make it all go away however he likes. For a third and final second, Kokichi's brain smacks him back into reality. 

He presses his lips back into Shuichi's despite how foul they must taste. 

After the two boys part, it's a race to get Kokichi clean. Leaving the shed and retreating to a technically off limits bathroom, one with cold showers at most, takes maybe ten total minutes while running. Kokichi is lucky that Saihara always knows how to sneak into these places. Still, even Shuichi's worried smile and hand can't stop Kokichi's trembling. The bathroom is poorly cared for. It's cracked floors and overgrown nature make Kokichi uneasy. But right now, no one is even at school anymore. 

It's safe. 

The boy shivers and forces himself to strip while Shuichi leaves to fill a bucket with warm water. Of course, he only leaves after making sure that Kokichi has clothing to change into and has been sprayed down with more saline. There's even a little travel care pack in one of their bags. 

Kokichi quickly sits down on a creaking locker room bench and squeezes shampoo all over his head. Minutes of relentless scrubbing and lathering go by. Naked body still damp, Kokichi slowly stops attacking his head. The showers probably won't work. Shuichi is coming back with a huge plastic bucket full of warm water. He pokes his head into shower stalls anyway. 

Finding the cleanest one reveals that the showers are indeed shut off. 

Kokichi sits back onto the jacket covered bench and covers himself in body wash. He takes a tiny washcloth and sprays saline on it, proceeding to rub his body everywhere possible. He's dirty and disgusting and if Shuichi doesn't come back-

When Shuichi walks back in with a bucket of steaming water, smiling triumphantly, Kokichi chokes back another sob. 

It takes half an hour for Kokichi to feel clean enough to get dressed and leave. Shuichi calls in about how everything has already been packed back up too. Honestly, Kokichi still doesn't feel clean. But it's getting darker and darker the longer he takes to wash himself on repeat. The smell should be gone now. 

Not wanting to waste Shuichi's time, Kokichi rinses off one last time. He takes a towel and  
dries himself from top to bottom. Thankfully, the clothing he's given to change into isn't a gym uniform. It looks like a plain t-shirt and some shorts that belong to Shuichi. 

The fabric is higher quality than Kokichi has ever thought that a simple t-shirt would be. 

Kokichi leaves the locker room and spots Shuichi holding an ice pack to his face. His other hand fiddles with a pair of reading glasses. A familiar hat that belongs to another boy is resting on Shuichi's bowed head. 

“Did Iruma-san stop by?” Kokichi asks. He frowns when Shuichi nods. Iruma knowing what happened is an obvious result of her being a co-conspirator. It's only with her technological knack that bugging everything is a reality. The girl knowing and coming by to pick up evidence with that boytoy of hers should be expected. Kokichi still cringes at the knowledge that she's witnessed everything. 

Bright gold eyes dart over to Kokichi's figure. The reading glasses get slipped back into the pocket of Shuichi's jacket. 

“She and Kiibo-san took stuff back to his place. You don't have to worry though!” Shuichi says with a heartfelt smile. “Iruma-san and I have known one another since childhood, and she knows a lot of people who get hurt like this so… uhm. Kokichi, you're definitely safe.”

Feeling both overwhelmed and at peace despite his dread, Kokichi nods. 

Shuichi still insists once more that Iruma won't betray them. Kokichi allows the other boy to lead him out of the bathroom, and then they climb up a tree and over bit of broken fence until they're staring at sidewalk. It's not the first time that the two have escaped from school this way. 

Kokichi makes it three minutes down the street that goes towards Shuichi's house. Just three out of twenty minutes and Kokichi's legs fail him. 

Looking back at where Kokichi is heaving on the ground, Shuichi quietly walks over to him and kneels down. Back facing Kokichi, arms ready. 

“Are you seriously about to offer me a piggyback ride?” Kokichi mutters. Purple eyes stare and Shuichi's offer and Kokichi sighs. Of course Shuichi would carry Kokichi home despite everything. “F-fine.”

The hat on Shuichi's head doesn't fit quite right. Fixing it takes only a moment of Kokichi's time and effort. 

So, that's how the two of them go home. Kokichi dozing off on Shuichi's back, listening to Shuichi comment on how much better things will be. ‘You should eat more food’, and ‘Cleaning up a spare room should be fast’, along with ‘I can buy new clothes for you’. There's not all that much of the walk that Kokichi fully remembers. Just Shuichi babbling in a way that brings comfort. Just Shuichi. Warm, steady, kind Shuichi. 

Kokichi is asleep by the time Shuichi gets home, a maid quickly opening the door and ushering them in. He takes the boy upstairs by himself as a small dinner is prepared. Shuichi quickly hops onto his computer after turning the lights off, typing in the url to a familiar site. Not getting the good ending from all their hard work is unthinkable. Facts don't remove that other thing though. 

Shuichi glances back. 

Laying on Shuichi's large bed… Kokichi looks like an angel being swallowed up by fluffy clouds. Cuddling and snuggling under eggshell comforters, blankets, undisturbed by the heat due to Shuichi's air conditioner. The artificial light of Shuichi's computer screen provides an uneasy feeling though. He grabs the remote off of his desk and turns his room's lights on dim. Better. They even give the extremely pale Kokichi a small healthy glow. 

It's a shame that Kokichi feel asleep, Shuichi thinks. The other boy spent part of the way home murmuring about showers. 

Going back to the website opened on his screen, Shuichi notes the again changed phone number. The grinning Monokuma on his screen blinks out as the page resets to Google. Hope heavy in his heart, Shuichi walks back over to his bed. Kokichi shifts and curls onto his side when Shuichi crawls in next to him. Albeit without going under the covers. 

Tonight is going to be one of the nights where Shuichi can't sleep. He puts his phone on the expensive pure cotton covers, and grabs a Dangan Ronpa novel from his nightstand. 

It's going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this later. There's ideas for it and such. But rn I just wanna feel less like shit for not uploading anything. 
> 
> Anyway, Shuichi gets beaten to an inch of his life. Kokichi gets pissed on. None of it is consenting but there is no actual sex or rape involved. This would probably count as sexual assault. And torture because you know, every bit of it. 
> 
> Kokichi is abused by his mother, at school, and his only remotely healthy relationship is Shuichi. Who is kind of okayish but also a freak. Not nearly as fucked up as my average pregame Shuichi though. He's a genuinely good person that actually doesn't like gore stuff much. Weird. 
> 
> It's just dark despair and suffering filled shit built on the premise that two idiot teens are trying to make their lives better, but in the immediate they get fucked up horribly. But also part of all this is... A lie. But it's not. It depends on if I continue. 
> 
> If you know what Magical Girl Site is you can maybe guess.


End file.
